


Walking After You

by qthelights



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-09
Updated: 2001-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qthelights/pseuds/qthelights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My first fandom and the purple prose that went with such a thing.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Walking After You

**Author's Note:**

> My first fandom and the purple prose that went with such a thing.

_Tonight I’m tangled in my blanket of clouds_

_dreaming aloud  
Things just won’t do without you matter of fact  
I’m on your back_

* * * * * *

He stares down into his coffee mug, watching the one little speck of coffee ground circle around and around in the dirty coloured liquid. Drowning in its own little whirlpool of his creation. The accomplice spoon is now causing a stain on a folder next to him. It will match the stain caused by the ring of the mug, forming on the report it sits on.

His gaze remains on the dark water in the cup. He dares not look up. If he did, he would see the empty desk out in the bullpen. But it isn’t what he would see that scares him. It’s what he wouldn’t see. Who he wouldn’t see. So he steels himself against looking up. He’ll stare downwards forever if he has to.

* * * * * *

She’s at home, not knowing what to do. She doesn’t have any boxes. Isn’t going to move. She knows he thinks she will; it’s what she told him. But this is her home now, this city. And she wants to stay. More importantly, she can stay. She doesn’t have to run now, doesn’t have to flee herself and her mistakes. Now she is stronger and she wants to cry.

Her face is weary with emotion. Pain and regret crease her forehead, pull the pigment from her skin. She makes coffee, not realizing she’s done it till it’s in her hand. She doesn’t want it though, sets it on the table, careful to slide a coaster under it. Watches the murky contents silently.

* * * * * *

_If you walk out on me  
I’m walking after you_

* * * * * *

He hasn’t touched his coffee. The mug got as far as his lips, the ceramic touching skin. Sadness wouldn’t let him drink it though and he'd put it back down. Another ring forms, linking the other on his report. Somewhere, that means something.

He looks up now, noting the familiar stab of pain he has come to associate with her not being nearby. There’s music on somewhere. He’s not sure where. Maybe it’s in his head. It’s soft, sad. He’s heard it before but he doesn’t know when. He listens. She walked out on him and he didn’t walk after her; not at the time. He grabs his keys and leaves the room, the coffee cooling on his desk.

* * * * * *

She wants to go back. Wants him back. But she can’t. If she walked back to him she’d lose herself, lose the strength and confidence she’s fought so hard to find. It didn’t interfere with her typing she notes. Her laugh is short and startling in the silent kitchen. So, she can’t be the one to go back. She walked out. She can’t walk back.

Her fear is that she did the wrong thing; that he won’t come after her. She moves to the living room where the television is on, credits showing, sound is muted. She finds the remote, brings back the sound. There’s a song playing, and she knows what movie just finished from that alone. Fitting, she thinks. In the movie, he walked after her. She walked out and he walked after her. She wishes it was that way for her.

* * * * * *   
 _If you walk out on me  
I’m walking after you  
another heart is cracked in two  
I’m on your back_

* * * * * *

He stares at her when she opens the door. Realizes he doesn’t know what to say. He brings his hand up in a gesture, of...what…he doesn’t know. His keys jangle softly and he lets his arm fall by his side again. She steps back, opens the door for him and his heart soars. He tells himself not to hope, not to set himself up for the fall. He walks in and she closes the door behind him.

He stands there, looking at her, not saying anything. She’s quiet in return. They converse in silence. He observes the room, unpacked, and he knows that she’s staying. But he knows that isn’t to do with him. He wants it to be to do with him.

“You walked out on me,” he echoes the words now in his head.

“You walked after me…eventually,” she answers and neither are surprised they both heard the song.

* * * * * *

They fall back into silence again. She knows that it will be okay now. She didn’t go back, she didn’t run away and he came back to her, and that’s okay. That she can do. She reads his eyes, recognizes the consternation. He’s scared. She’s never seen him scared. A feeling of power fills her as she comprehends that she caused that, and that she can change it.

Reaching out she offers him her hand. He takes it, and she sees the relief in his eyes. She wants to make this better now. She pauses, feeling his hand in hers, her hand in his. This is better than before, better than walking out. She turns and leads him to the bedroom.

* * * * * *

_If you’d accept surrender  
give up some more  
weren’t you adored  
I cannot be without you matter of fact  
I’m on your back_

* * * * * *

He watches from the bed as she pulls her t-shirt over her head. Unclasps her bra behind her and lets it fall over her arms and onto the floor. Her breasts are pale and they sway slightly as she leans down and slips off her sweatpants. Stepping out, she is naked. All he can do is stare.

He’s not quite sure what she is doing. She wants him to sit and wait for her. She’s taking control, and he isn’t going to stop her, but he wonders if this will make things better. What, he wonders, happens if this makes everything all that much worse. But he stays, sits, waits. Because he can’t be without her.

* * * * * *

She doesn’t feel self conscious, standing before him naked. Part of her thinks that she really should be, but she doesn’t feel it. For some reason, she wants him to see her, to see her like this. To know what she is in every way. She wants his acceptance, but she also needs to set the boundaries. They need to be open with each other, there can’t be things they don’t know. They have to be naked.

She moves to him. Undoing his tie. Slipping it over his head. Opening his shirt without a sound. Pulling it off his arms. Tugging on his arm, he stands up and she moves her hands to the top of his jeans. Moments later, with a detour to take off his shoes and socks, she has them off. His boxers follow. He stands before her now, naked aswell. Her eyes lock with his, making sure he understands the concept she’s showing him. The resolution she thinks she can see in his eyes only burns stronger. She won’t have to walk away again.

* * * * * *

_If you walk out on me  
I’m walking after you_

_* * * * * *_

He understands now. The disrobing is to expose herself to him. And to expose himself to her. To see each other. And he beholds her now. Looking at him defiantly, daring him to leave, yearning for him to stay. He isn’t going to let her leave. He learnt that lesson. Now its up to him to prove that he will always walk after her. Or never let her leave.

This time he offers her his hand, and she takes it. He leads her to the bed and pulls back the covers for her. Watches as she slides in between the sheets and then follows, drawing the covers back up over them. He pulls her into his arms, reveling at the feel of her naked skin against his own. And he kisses her. Explores her mouth, as she does the same to him.

* * * * * *

She feels his erection pressing against her stomach, rubs against it. Hears his breath catch in his throat. They continue to press and slide and rub and touch each other. Silently learning the last things they need to know before they know all. The only sound is their ragged breathing. She memorizes it. Cherishes it.

She hooks her top leg over his waist and inches up till she feels him rubbing against her sex. She can tell he wants to moan, but he’s trying to keep the silence, for her. She wants him to moan now. Giving him permission with her eyes, she rocks herself against him below, coating him with her wet. And he moans, softly, almost secretively, but lets her hear it.

* * * * * *

_things just won’t do without you matter of fact_

* * * * * *

He buries his face into her throat, kissing it softly, feeling her pulse against his cheek. He moves his hips till he can feel himself pressing against her opening. Moving back to see her, to ask. She nods, almost imperceptibly. He presses forward, sinking up inside her and they collectively breathe out at the contact. She manages a soft smile, and he responds with his own.   
  
He begins to move against her, sliding almost out and pushing back in. Her soft moan only serves to make him want it more. Gradually he thrusts faster, harder. And she thrusts back at him in time, her tempo increasing with his own until he’s almost slamming into her and his breathing is ragged and loud.

* * * * * *

She pushes against him as he invades her, coaxing him deeper inside. Her arms tighten around him and her fingernails dig into his back as she comes. The only sound she makes is a tiny whimper as her body releases, pleasure sweeping through her. He comes seconds after her, shoving hard into her and stilling, then relaxing.

She catches her breath, watching him do the same. Watching each other. She smiles as he looks at her, and he smiles back. She doesn’t need to walk out again.   
  
And if she does, she knows he’ll come after her.

* * * * * *

_I cannot be without you matter of fact…  
If you walk out on me  
I’m walking after you._   


 


End file.
